I made a list almost a decade ago. And now I am going to attend to that list, one item at a time, until I conquer it and all of its implications on my life and the surrounding world as I perceive it...unless I grow bored of it before then; in which case, it will be just another crumpled idea left to litter the antigravity of cyberspace.

Monday, April 2, 2012

A to Z Challenge/Day 2- letter B

B is for Butterfly. "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly." (Richard Bach)
What living creature gives us a more accurate reminder of Purpose? Everyone is seeking their purpose, their reason for living. Everyone wants to know why they are here, and everyone wants so badly to be of monumental significance to the world and the human race that most will go their whole lives overlooking the very Purpose that cannot ever not be. Even with magnificent clues like the butterfly fluttering around us, we miss it.
Will I cure cancer? Will I be president? Will I be the first to walk on the surface of Mars? Will I invent something equal in genius to the Keurig coffee maker? Will I unite the world in love and harmony through music, poetry, and interpretive dance? And if I can't do any of these things or something else as cosmically resounding, then maybe the psychic palm-reader downtown can tell me what amazing and influential historical figure I used to be in a past life. Because, obviously, if I was Ben Franklin or Einstein or DaVinci, I deserve a bit of a break in THIS life. Right? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, though, none of the above referenced things are Purpose. They begin as dreams, inspiration. They lead to other dreams, possibilities. And even if they should come to fruition, they are effects to the cause; results of choice. They are accomplishments. But Purpose? Not so much. "But," you ask, "can't a person have more than one purpose in life and of varying degrees?" To which I respond, "No." We have reasons for living, and while our reasons most certainly feed our Purpose, they are not Purpose, Itself. All of this is naught but my very humble opinion, of course. But, follow me for a minute (as it turns out, B is also for Brief, as this blog has much to say but in few words, it seems). Follow me and consider:
What if we are born to digest as much of the world as we can, growing all the while, having to shed old skins for new skins as we expand our boundaries and increase our hunger for more and more knowledge? What if we are born to grow until we simply cannot grow anymore? And then we rest. We rest because we realize that all of the knowledge we have sought and acquired ultimately lead us to one simple Truth: we already knew it all. We already knew it, but we mistook the desire to transform for the need to be moving, to be set in motion, to be constantly seeking when, in fact, all we've ever had to do all along is just...be...still (note: it is EVER SO important not to confuse "still" with "stagnant." Please, for the good of the world, never make that mistake). With all the movement and yearning and distraction, we forget the things we know. And here's the GRAND paradoxical nature of the universe and the existence coveted within (at least as I see it): we were meant to forget, because we are never meant to forget. See? All Truth leads us to the Understanding that to be still is to let ourselves be silent, and in that silence we can hear the Song of Home. When we can do that, we can emerge...Transformed, with a capital "T."
So, what if our only Purpose in all of life is to learn enough to be silent enough to hear enough to remember it all...to be transformed back into the Something from which we came (and paradoxically, of which we cannot ever really not be): light and free, soaring on a holy breeze; a beautiful reminder to others of their Purpose.

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A Blog Award! Yay me!

I am the proud recipient of the most prestigious (did I spell that right?) Liebster Blog Award! This confirms what I have suspected for quite some time now: I am awesome, bitchez! Thanks for the props. Much Love.

Inspiring Blogger Award

I LOVE blog awards! They validate me in a way that they shouldn't, but I am needy and insecure, so THANK YOU!!

Blog Award w/ a Really Long Name, But Probably Not as Long as This; No, Def Not as Long as This.

Try to keep this on the downlow, but word has it that this blog award was named after me! I am so honored.

Someone Finally Created a Blog Award That Doesn't Require a Bunch of Writing or One of My Ovaries

I am a mama (greatest thing I've ever done); I am a blogger (not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I'll have triple digit followers in a couple of years...BOOM!); and I am beautiful. So, this award f*cking NAILED it!! Word.

About Me

More often than not, I am under the influence of insomnia. Most of the things I am too lazy to write about (til now) come from the disembodied voices that float freely around my bedroom in the very early morning hours. Yep. While the rest of the world sleeps, I am negotiating terms with the trapsing trolls that stomp noisily to and fro across the bridge that connects my conscious mind to the scary depths of the sub-conscious world of dreams and nightmares. Sometimes I am able to out-smart them; sometimes not. Sometimes I get halfway across that damn precarious bridge and stop, just hovering above the chasm of akashic knowledge, waiting to catch the random bits of imprint and cryptic alphabet that might float up to me. Now, with the ambition of a newly inspired blogger, I will try to assemble the randomness, and I may actually write...something.